


Far From Mundane

by diashann



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diashann/pseuds/diashann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora Jackson is right hand to /the assistant/ of Mycroft Holmes. And though Anthea fails to see through to the girl beneath the strawberry blonde hair, John Waston surely doesn't. Only...according to him she's a very brunette, very American, young individual by the name of Sadie Simza Heron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

John stared at his watch for the thirtieth time. She was late, she was always late, it was as though she led a double life. He paused for a fraction of a second before shaking his head at the thought, a dark chuckle escaping him as he scratched his barely-there moustache. She came bursting into her flat, heaps of shopping bags in tow. He immediately stood from his all-too-familiar armchair to greet her, eyes meeting her slender form in the doorway, and upon seeing her struggling he rushed to her aide. “Christ, what have we got here?” He asked curiously as he removed at  least five bags from the clutches of her right hand and moved them toward the Christmas tree in front of the window where Sherlock‘s table once sat. She gave a cat-like smile in his direction, the expression making his stomach churn as it reminded him of someone that merely thinking up could cause sweating on his palms and an aching in his heart. But no. He had sworn to himself (and his therapist) that he was past all this now. One of his first steps to recovery having been to give the flat at 221B Baker Street to the charming young American before him. 

Her name was Sadie Heron and she’d just moved from New York. She was calm and normal and just the kind of best friend that John had convinced himself he’d needed. Deep down, though, he knew that the only best friend he’d ever truly need was six feet of sheer brilliance and little bits of his brilliant brain were probably still stuck to the sidewalk from the impact of his face-plant just mere months ago. He visibly flinched because, ouch, that hurt. 

No, _that really hurt_.

Sadie was pinching his forearm to bring him back to the moment. Upon reentering the realm of reality, he noticed how closely she was standing to him and the mixture of worry and amusement on her face. “Do you mind?” He snapped playfully, sharply smacking her pinchy and perpetrating hand away from his arm at once.

She feigned injury for a kilo-second before watching as the slightly-sullen Watson went to work with arranging her other set of bags under the tree. “You alright, then?” She asked, kneeling down beside him now. He looked at her, gave the phoniest smile he could muster, and nodded his head a single time. He hadn’t told her anything about Sherlock Holmes, his former best friend. He was slightly at an advantage, seeing that Sadie was American. Not too many Americans knew about the infamous sleuth before his death and if they’d caught wind of the man after his demise, there was little to be said about the sidekick. Sadie smiled over at John and ran her hand up and down his back and shoulder in a comforting gesture. Much to his surprise, the action always managed to calm him down.

  
“I have a surprise for you,” She exclaimed suddenly, rising to her feet. John put the finishing touches on gift boxes and bags beneath Sadie’s robust and eccentrically decorated pine tree before he looked up at her, an eyebrow raised half a fraction above it’s counterpart. She glanced down at him mischievously, waiting for him to inquire about said surprise. Of course he didn’t; he just stared at her the way he often did. Most people, John found, would stare at her. It was hard not to stare at her beautiful waist-length chestnut hair; immaculate olive skin; brilliantly straight and white set of chompers; and not to mention her winning personality. And though she hadn’t shown much to John in the past few months, he’d like to think she had a brilliant brain also. Just like someone else he used to know.

  
In a nutshell, her befriending him was a little shocking. She was young, attractive (though apparently not from her perspective), and bright as a whip (at least John had suspected). Why would she befriend him? Because he’d given her the flat? No, she could’ve just said thank you and gone off to watch Skins or something. She was of legal age, mid-twenties, but (aside from the occasional back rubbing) she never really touched him so she couldn’t possibly be trying to pursue a sexual relationship with him. And-- _no_. He was _not_ actually sitting there, _deducing her_ , with his mouth wide open and a variation of different thoughts playing out across his features. She must’ve thought he was absolutely _mad_. He glanced back up to where she was, only to find her standing by the mantle to examine the skull he should have taken out back and smashed into a million pieces, wearing a full length navy ball gown. 

“What is… How did you… I’m confused,” He said, mouth only slightly agape this time, as he stood to his feet. She glanced over her shoulder at him and gave a little chuckle. “You were sitting there for quite a while, maybe twenty minutes, and it doesn’t really take me too long to get ready.” John started to speak but his voice cracked a bit, forcing him to try to rephrase altogether. “Where are you off to, then? I’m sure you probably told me when I…,” He gestured to the ground where he’d previously been settled to refer to his, hopefully, well forgotten bout of stupidity. Sadie furrowed her brows to feign confusion for only a fraction of a second before smiling playfully to show him that his actions were now no longer at the forefront of her mind. “Well, I was invited to this…event. Your friend Gregory, who we’ve bumped into on many occasion at the grocery store, he invited me. I was actually sort of wondering if you’d be my plus one,” She fiddled with her dress, John noted, _actually fiddled_. She surely couldn’t have been nervous about asking him. One of these days some man was going to have to clue her in about the existence of her feminine wiles and impressive assets.

“I actually dug out one of your suits from the closet upstairs. Mrs. Hudson told me it was there in the first place and it sort of got me thinking and whatnot.” She exhaled sharply and gave him the coyest of looks, while adding, “You don’t have to come. I mean, only if you want to. I mean, I do notice how uncomfortable that man seems to make you whenever we bump into him.” She stopped talking, probably aware that she was rambling now. John smiled, finally doing away with the ruddy blank expression he wore. “I’d be glad to go along.”

After Sadie put the finishing touches on her hair and make-up, she came out to find him waiting for her in his armchair. “Well, don’t you look dapper.” She looked him up and down and that was enough to drive him crazy. Who in the bloody hell was this woman? She was a complete enigma and it killed him to know that Sherlock would have sized her up the moment she moved into the flat. Of course, if Sherlock had been around she wouldn’t even be there in the first place. 

  
And, just like that, the ache in John’s chest was back.

  
He forced himself to fight through the emotions that threatened to rip him apart at the seams, eyes fixed on her now as he stood. “You can’t find this in America,” John said, playfully, as he gestured to himself. Sadie let loose a roar of laughter as she looped her arm through his. “No, I can’t,” She said seriously, expression blank. He led her to the door and helped her into her coat, palms sweating for numerous reasons. He wanted to tell her how amazing she looked, how ravishing, but he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure if complimenting her was appropriate. Part of him felt like she was hitting on him, she’d never acted like this with him. Another part of him felt as if he wasn’t the only one between the pair who was trying to fill up a space in their life.

  
“I’ll drive,” John said the words in barely a whisper but he was sure she’d heard him when she handed him her car keys.

  
                                                     **

  
Upon reaching the recreation center, John immediately cursed himself. Of course, the event was the annual policeman ball. “Usually, these things aren’t formal. Are you sure we’re dressed for the part?” His tone came across as a bit frantic as he looked out the windshield, scanning the others who were arriving for the party. Sadie unbuckled herself and smiled over at him ruefully, “It’s themed, John. This year the theme is formal.”

  
John sat back, rather forcefully, in his seat. He scoffed and undid his seat belt, “Since when is formal a theme?” She shrugged before reaching over and squeezing his hand, big brown eyes trying to convey the message of _it’ll be fun_. “You have to introduce me to your other friends sooner or later. I’m starting to think you’re ashamed of me.” He was slightly taken aback by her words so he glanced at her cautiously, relieved when he saw the playful look on her face. “Am I too young to hang out with you? Think they’ll get curious? I mean,” She paused, finger tapping her temple, “Detective Inspector Lestrade… he already thinks we’re um… what was the word? _Shagging?_ ”

Laughter spilled from John like water from an overflowing tub. Said laughter must’ve been contagious because the young woman beside him started in on it too. “Leave it to him to think that,” the man said after their fit had ceased. She grabbed hold of his hand and gripped it again and it was then that he understood that maybe she wasn’t as clueless about why he’d tense up so much upon seeing Greg, why he’d even suggested they go to a different grocery mart. “Lets go have some fun, shall we?” She said it so softly, he couldn’t refuse her.

  
The recreation center was decorated quite nicely, different variations of blue and grey went about the walls and ceilings. There were at least ten tables on either side of a wood paneled dance floor, a DJ booth and Bar parallel to each other on either side. It was a mixture of elegance and an American prom.

  
“There you are! Ms. Heron, you deserve an award. I never thought I’d see this old sod again.” Gregory Lestrade stood by the entrance, his table not too far away from it, looking a bit like the text book definition of a ‘silver fox’.  “Greggy, good to see you,” Sadie purred playfully before they embraced. John shuffled from foot to foot before being pulled into the current embrace of an old colleague and a new friend. “Get in here,” Lestrade roared.

  
After releasing the pair, he looked them over. “Get here okay?” Sadie rolled her eyes a bit before glaring at John, “He almost got us killed but I’m here in one piece so I guess the drive was relatively okay.” John smiled before doing that awkward weight shifting thing again. “Would you like something to drink, Sade?” Lestrade asked before placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Sure, I guess something from the bar,” she replied carelessly. “I’ll go get it,” John piped up, dying to get away from them as Anderson made his way over toward them from across the room. The last thing he needed right now was that smug idiot.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated with myself for months on whether I should keep the car scene
> 
> *sigh

Sadie smiled broadly at Lestrade, who was in the middle of an animated tale from a crime scene just earlier that day, when Anderson approached. She glanced around to see John was a safe distance away and out of earshot at the bar. Just as she was about to return her attention to the men before her, she caught sight of a mousy blonde moving in on John. She rolled her eyes and went back to the matter at hand. _One thing at a time, Sadie. Rome wasn’t built in a day._

“Who do we have here?” Anderson asked with a predatory smile. Lestrade had trailed off with his story now, taking in the new arrival. “This is Sadie Heron, she’s John Watson’s….” He trailed off and Sadie nearly rolled her eyes. “Friend. I‘m his friend,” She corrected with a nod of her head, “And you are?”She was already sure she knew who he was, he matched the description on John’s blog. _Anderson_.

“You can call me Anderson,” He put out his hand for her to shake while simultaneously sizing her up with his eyes. She wanted to vomit, a tight smile gracing her lips as she took his hand into hers and shook it. She pulled her hand back as quickly as possible afterward and Anderson must’ve noticed her repulsion because he went into full-scale offense mode. “What kind of friend are you? Clearly not his girlfriend judging by the woman chatting him up at the bar,” he chuckled a bit. _Actually fucking chuckled_. She wanted to slap him, but she remained calm and collected as she glanced over her shoulder and took in the sight of John and some blonde. She looked back to Anderson, eyes slightly squinted. “I mean no offense to a… fine specimen such as yourself,” he added as though that could soothe the sting of annoyance she held within.

“How often do you pick up women with that line?” She almost sneered. He was taken aback by her tone, or at least he pretended to be in front of Lestrade. But there was no fooling Sadie, she knew his type, he was vicious; a predator. “I swear I meant no offense. It’s just that… well, the last friend John Watson had was a psychopath. Birds of a feather and all that, I’m just trying to look out for a vulnerable young American girl like yourself,” He disregarded Lestrade’s presence for a moment and moved closer to her. Sadie didn’t budge. She was pretty sure she was moments from snapping. “You’re in a new country, it can be overwhelming and scary. I just wouldn’t want anyone to try to take advantage of you.”

Lestrade had heard and seen enough. “Anderson!” He snapped, catching the two of them off guard, especially the woman who was so close to snapping herself. Her face felt over heated and in the heat of the moment she spat, “I am _far_ from vulnerable.” No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, John was at her side. “Dirty Apple Martini, right? I’m so bloody awful, I never get your drink right when we’re out…” He trailed off when he saw the looks on the three people before him, “Have I… missed something?”

  
“No, nothing,” Sadie answered rather quickly, a protective air about her as she took her drink from him, glaring over at the weasel who’d just insulted her new best friend. Not to mention, her idol, Sherlock Holmes. “This is perfect, John. Exactly what the doctor ordered.” She took a long sip and handed her nearly empty glass to Anderson. “Dance with me,” she demanded more-so than she asked, grabbing John’s hand and dragging him toward the dance floor as Ellie Goulding’s _Atlantis_ blared through the speakers by the DJ booth. 

“Do I even want to know?” John asked in her ear, holding her close to him. She simply shook her head and added, “I’ll tell you later.” It was in that moment that she felt she could lose grip on why she’d been there in the first place. She almost did but then she glanced across the dance floor and locked eyes with one of her L.O.G.I agents, Louis Delacroix, an operative from France. His dark hair was in a ponytail and his long and lean body hidden beneath a waiter‘s outfit. “You know what, can you just take me home?” She asked, pulling away from him, watching the fear cross his features. They both knew the moment would come, the moment Sherlock became more than just something they kept hidden from one another. No, she wouldn’t inform John about L.O.G.I or her secret life, but Sherlock had to be discussed and the time was now. 

  
A part of her felt bad about playing him like a fiddle, even more when he smiled at her or in the little moments shared between them. And though she didn’t mean for it to happen, John was slowly starting to fill the hole Rene had left in her chest when he up and got himself killed by Moriarty. _For Moriarty_. All these thoughts plagued her on the drive back to 221B. She didn’t even remember saying her goodbyes at the party, she’d sort of been set on auto-pilot after seeing Louis, after sensing John’s dread. She couldn’t even bring herself to steal a glance at him from where he drove beside her. But of course, none of that would stop her from opening her big mouth.

  
She cleared her throat, “So, who was that blonde at the bar? She was cute.”  
“Her name was Mary or something,” he muttered after a few moments of silence. After he spoke, there was nothing but more silence. Sadie stared out the window and hadn’t noticed they’d stopped and arrived at their destination until John shut the car off and said, “Here we are.” The woman stared blankly over at him. 

  
“Aren’t you coming up?” She asked curiously as they both unbuckled their seatbelts and he passed her the keys to her car and flat. He acted as though he was thinking it over, but she already knew his answer. He shook his head, finally, and said dryly, “No, I don’t really think that’s a good idea. I‘ll just go home dressed like this, if that‘s alright.” She paled within an inch of her life. Was he actually ending their friendship? This is not how this was supposed to work. She moved in a little over a month ago, he came into her life like a force to be reckoned with and though there were some things they’d kept from each other, (Well, that she’d kept from him. John couldn’t keep anything from her, really.) Sadie liked to think they had formed a bond.

  
She let everything sink in. She wouldn’t fight him on it, she knew there was more he’d say before he actually let her leave, anyway. “Oh. Alright, then.” She said softly, slowly nodding before reaching to free herself from the vehicle. He reached over calmly and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She froze before shifting to face him expectantly. “What is….this, exactly?” John looked her right in the eyes and she nearly slapped herself. She’d been giving him mixed signals for a week now, every since they watched _Something To Talk About_ together. It was because she wasn’t supposed to be Sadie from Brooklyn, she was supposed to be Sadie from Manhattan; Sadie who was normal and came from a respectable family who she only spoke to on the holidays because her mother was a realtor and her father was into politics. She couldn’t be Sadie who was poor, had an abusive father who killed her gypsy mother, and left she and her older brother Rene to fend for themselves on the harsh and unforgiving streets of Brooklyn. There was no way she could say that her feelings for John were just transferred feelings from missing Rene; _Something To Talk About_ was _their_ movie. 

After Rene moved to Paris, Sadie took care of herself. She’d been following Sherlock’s gift for the last few years, reading John’s blog. She knew she was gifted from an early age but she could never quite place what it was that she was gifted at, what this particular hat trick was called, not until she heard about Sherlock. The internet was a really useful thing. 

It was only mere months ago that she was just a (almost) regular girl, saving up to move across the pond to meet the man who changed her life. It was also mere months ago when she read the paper she had specially delivered from London on her waitress salary and found out that the super sleuth had fallen to his death and was dubbed a ‘fake genius’. She wouldn’t accept it and a fire started from within, burning her insides to no avail. Because, surely if he was a fake, she was a fake as well. And Sadie Simza Heron was no fake. Add that to the fact that it was only a matter of time before she discovered Moriarty’s sneaky switch-a-roo and the death of her brother Rene, who was always in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. With all that she had every reason one would need to exact revenge and organized people like herself from all over the globe to make up the _League Of Greater Intelligence_. L.O.G.I for short. 

She took a deep breath. “John…”

“No,” He cut her off, “I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid. I can tell just by the amount of time it took you to answer me. It’s just that woman, Mary, slipped me her number at the bar and I didn’t even know how to react because all I could focus on was you and how you’d react. Which is crazy considering that I wouldn’t even know how to please someone as young as you. I can’t even remember the last time I _kissed_ a woman let alone…” He trailed off for a moment and watched as Sadie’s eyes grew wide. “Oh,” was all she could manage and it came out slightly breathy.

“My therapist says I should start dating again… I actually told her about you a while ago but I said even then that I knew this was nothing. I’m old enough to be your father, really. But after the past week, I’m actually kind of confused.” His words came out rushed and his face reddened. Sadie gaped a bit, “Therapist?” He nodded, slightly embarrassed. She must‘ve been losing focus on her mission due to her grief because she had no idea he even had a therapist. “Just … lets take things back a bit, shall we?” John nodded his consent and Sadie gathered herself while recalling all the things he’d just confessed to her. “Do you like her? This… Mary woman?”

John sighed a little and shifted in his seat to face her more directly. “I guess, she’s alright,” He answered shyly, not looking directly at her. She guessed he was probably aware she was rejecting him softly and looking at her, for some strange reason, would make it harder for him to bear it. “Well then, I think she’s much better suited for you than I could ever be,” though she said it with a smile, she couldn’t stop the way her voice cracked. Because why couldn’t she have John? Why couldn’t she let him take care of her, because it’s all she’s craved for since Rene abandoned her? Then she remembered. It was because Sherlock was coming back, it was just this feeling she’d gotten since she moved in to 221B. She couldn’t confirm it yet, but with her secret life blossoming quite nicely, she would have confirmation soon enough. Sherlock and the operation to bring down the rest of Moriarty’s men were her main priorities, along with keeping everyone Sherlock ever gave a damn about safe.

Her eyes met his and she couldn’t help but smiling softly as she said, “And as for that other bit, I think I could be of _some_ assistance.” John’s entire frame visibly stiffened and, for a brief moment, she wondered if she’d gone too far. “Which bit?” He asked her boldly, his voice dropping a few octaves. Sadie reached over and grabbed him by the front of his suit jacket, gently tugging him as she leaned in to press her lips to his. He didn’t move at all for a moment, just breathed. After she spent what seemed like forever softly placing butterfly kisses on his lips he sighed and gave in completely, his lips moving in perfect unison against her soft ones. Sadie didn’t think of this as a kiss, she couldn’t remember the last time she kissed someone just for the sake of kissing them. No, this kiss was neatly woven into her intricate web of deceit. John, however, was about to burst from his pants. She’d only noticed because her hand accidentally grazed his thigh and _felt_ how much he enjoyed this.

For the most part, she could say it was for science. She’d always read Sherlock and John’s relationship as “far too domestic to be hetero” but she could clearly see now from the way he reacted to her that he was one hundred percent straight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him more over to her side of the car, her back pressed hard against the door as he was basically sitting on the glove box between them, deepening the kiss. John moaned and Sadie gasped, lips clashing and slowing down their pace exceedingly until they were forced to part. The two fought for air and stared into each others eyes. John looked shocked, Sadie looked smug. “Now, the kissing is settled. I’m pretty sure you can handle everything that follows.”

He shook his head at her words, “I’m not so sure about that.” She laughed and shoved him back into the drivers seat, hands smoothing down the wrinkles in  her dress from where John had gotten a bit too handsy. “I’m not having sex with you, John. A kiss is simple, you can always come back from a kiss. Sex… well, sex with me is deadly.” She shot him a look and his face said  it all for him; John _wouldn’t mind death_. 


	3. Chapter Three

ALMOST A YEAR LATER

John stood at the picture window of his country-side home, staring at the big open spaces was surely a lot different from the hustle and bustle of Baker Street but somehow, he didn’t seem to mind the view over time. He’d been out of bed for quite some time, his nightmares had returned and he didn’t want to wake his wife of four months; Mary Watson, nee Morstan. The nightmares had started back in December, the night he kissed Sadie for the first and final time. It was after that kiss that he’d confided in her every little detail about his former best friend, the person he was using her to get over the ache of missing; the pain of seeing the hero fall.

  
_“I’m not having sex with you, John. A kiss is simple, you can always come back from a kiss. Sex… well, sex with me is deadly.”_

  
_She said the words as though she meant them, and the problem was that John didn’t doubt her for a second. Of course she was trouble, he wasn’t a complete idiot. From the moment she came into his life, he could sense it. That was his problem, though, he liked trouble and he liked danger. When he walked with Sherlock Holmes, he saw the battlefield and for some strange reason he saw that same battlefield when he walked with Sadie Heron._

  
_There was a long stretch of silence and he was sure the look on his face was grievous enough to put a damper on an already awkward situation. She had snogged the living daylights out of him and then expected him to go use the frustration on the Blonde from the bar. How very Holmes of her, acting like she didn’t care. Then again, maybe she didn’t. And then John remembered that she must have cared about something, because even for all her strength, he’d never seen someone so quick to get out of a social situation._

  
_“So are we going to talk about what happened back there, at the ball?” John asked after a clearing of his throat. He looked to the woman on his left and saw her tense up a bit. She turned and eyed him curiously, he knew he looked just as tense. “Anderson… he was trying to chat me up, I guess. I turned him down and he seemed to get slightly offended,” She paused and the action came off as a bit dramatic but John ignored it because the suspense was killing him, “He started saying all these things about you… about how your old best friend was a psychopath and how, by association, you probably are. Said I should be careful.”_

  
_Sadie rolled her eyes as if at the words that just came from her mouth. She looked out the windshield, straight ahead, anywhere but at John. He knew she didn’t have to look at him to know how the cogs in his brain screeched to a halt. “And are you worried?” His voice was so low, slightly predatory, it was as though he wanted to scare her off. Somehow, he knew he never would. He was stuck with her._

  
_“No, I know you’d never hurt me or try to take advantage of me.” She didn’t hesitate with her answer and it made him curious. “Despite only knowing me for such a short amount of time?” John eyed her and when she turned her gaze onto him, it haunted his soul how familiar that gaze was. “You remind me of someone,” Sadie said the words with such conviction, it terrified him. However, the truth was, she reminded him of someone too. So much so that he spilled everything about Sherlock, about their group of friends, about Moriarty; everything._

When the veteran had finally finished telling the tale of a sleuth and his blogger, it was well past midnight that night. He had no choice but to crash in his old bedroom, feeling that his then newly purchased country home wouldn’t miss him one bit. That was when the nightmare began, the one where he watched Sherlock fall only to reach the sidewalk and discover that the body-- the evidence of the act-- was nowhere to be found.

The nightmare lasted the entire month of January and only ceased when his courting Mary had become serious. The pair of them were engaged by the end of July and the bride-to-be had very much earned Sadie’s stamp of approval even when John, at times, could’ve sworn his best friend despised the blonde.

  
It was then John was broken from his reverie, a set of feminine arms snaking around his waist from behind, a pointy chin poking into his back. “Come back to bed,” she said softly. It couldn’t have been later than seven a.m. and he knew she was due in at work sooner rather than later. He turned around as best he could with her arms looped tightly around him and smiled down at her sleepy form. “You’ve missed me, I see,” He said in a whisper, stroking her hair gently. 

  
Mary nodded before releasing her anaconda grip and settled for tugging at the belt of his dressing gown instead. John knew his wife could be rather randy in the morning but she had never had the best of timing. He was a man, however, and there was no way in hell he’d refuse her; no matter how jumbled his head and his heart felt. He let himself be tugged into the bedroom, not a word or sound of protest escaping him on the way.

                                                            **

  
A few hours later, John woke to the sound of his doorbell ringing, a sheet draped over his waist and nothing else. He was also alone but he refused to feel used or bitter, looking over to see the note Mary had left him sitting on her pillow. He gave a faint smile as he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He had a lot to smile about, though he didn’t feel like doing too much smiling. The nightmare hadn’t plagued him after he and Mary sought out bliss that morning and then, of course, lazy early morning sex was enough to make any man happy. The doorbell rang again, about a handful of times, causing John to groan. “Bloody hell, I’m coming!”

  
He stumbled out of bed, found his dressing gown, and threw it on before tying the belt too tightly in frustration. He swore all the way to the door, wondering who the hell it could be on his property before noon on a weekday. He yanked open the door, ready to curse at the damn person when he saw exactly who it was. “Sadie,” he said breathily, slightly shocked, before pausing. 

  
It wasn’t every day the young woman showed up on his doorstep. They stayed in constant communication even though she was always busy and he was married now. But he hadn’t really seen her much since the wedding almost four months ago. “What are you… come in,” He moved aside to let her in, mind drawing constant blanks on why the hell she’d show up at his place.

  
“Hey, are we still on for this weekend? I know it’s stupid considering it’s only an American holiday but… you sort of started something when you cooked for me last year and you’re married now so it’s more than just the two of us and I think that’s more than enough to be thankful for…and, oh my god, you forgot.” Sadie said everything so excitedly that when she came down to the end there, it damn near broke John’s heart. He had forgotten about Thanksgiving; Sadie’s semi-favorite holiday. She loved what it stood for but absolutely hated it’s origin. She said last year that it’s sort of ironic that Thanksgiving symbolizes all that Americans are thankful to have been gifted with over the course of that same year, or even their entire lives but the pilgrims slaughtered a bunch of Native Americans by the dozens just so they could take their land. “ _Maybe they were thankful they had somewhere to rape, pillage, and murder_ ,” She’d said with a scowl on her face. John considered the holiday a bit dark, considering how it all became to be. But, Sadie made it perfectly clear that over the last few centuries, Thanksgiving had evolved into something a little more wholesome and less gratuitous.

  
He looked at the ground guiltily for forgetting, knowing that it was mostly because they didn‘t see each other much. For the most part, it was no one’s fault that Sadie tried to keep her distance after John promised himself to another woman. It was the respectable thing to do, seeing as their relationship was never exactly viewed as innocent by anyone but the two of them. She’d also gotten a really nice job being an assistant, she didn’t even want to tell John, he’d found out when he stole a glance at her Blackberry a few months ago and confronted her about it. “I did forget and I’m sorry, Sadie. But you know what, we’re going to have the nicest family gathering at 221B this weekend. I’ll call up Mrs. Hudson and we’ll have a right blast just like last year, I promise.”

She sniffled a bit and John whipped his head up to look at her. He suspected she’d nearly cried but her nose was red so he chocked it all up to the awful London weather she lived in. “No, that’s okay,” She said softly, shifting from foot to foot in his foyer, not bothering to glance around. She’d been there a couple of times. “Send Mary my love, I’m late for work,” She said quickly before turning and escaping out of his front door, slamming it shut before he could say or do anything.

  
“This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?” He said to himself before scratching his moustache.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Nora Jackson & the L.O.G.I agents

Nora Jackson had just returned to the Diogenes Club with the Starbuck’s coffee that Anthea had sent her out for only a mere ten and a half minutes ago; she had actually gotten back in record time considering she power-walked. Her barely ginger hair donned a fishtail braid hanging down to the inside of her elbow and it bobbed slightly as she walked with confidence. To be Anthea’s secret assistant, you had to bleed confidence.

  
She walked to a security guard and told him which room she wanted to go to, whispering the pass code of _sea monkeys_ to bypass any interruptions. Part of her wondered how she and her boss could meet so frequently at this club without being ousted. But Anthea was the true definition of a ghost; while Nora was a simple chameleon who knew how to blend, Anthea could go completely unseen and unnoticed which was hard for someone who looked as breathetaking as she did.

  
Upon arriving promptly to the room where she was awaited, Nora noticed Anthea sitting perched on a desk, tapping away at her cellular device. “You’re late,” Anthea droned without looking up from her phone. Nora smiled faintly, dimples forming in her olive-skinned cheeks. “Sorry boss,” she said with a sigh, her posh accent filling the room. Moving closer to the desk, she handed her boss the chi latte that she had probably been aching for. “The line was nearly out the door, not to mention it’s three minutes there and back.” Anthea looked up for a moment and smirked, “You’re forgiven, Nora. But only because you’re so much better than my last assistant. What was her name, again?”

  
Nora nearly laughed but held it back with a tight-lipped expression before answering the inquiry at hand, “Daisy, boss. Her name was Daisy and she moved to Ibiza.” Just as Anthea nodded, a chime filled the silence of the room. The brunette stared at her phone only to find the notification hadn’t belonged to her. “Oh, sorry. Forgot to silence it,” Nora said half-cheerily, half-terrified. She’d never forgotten to switch her blackberry off, that was the problem with having two of them; not to mention the awful morning she’d had.  
She whipped out the phone, glanced at it and saw it was a text. She opened it:

  
**10:55AM  JOHN-**

**look, I’m sorry I forgot about dinner this weekend**

**please forgive me?  xx**

Her eyes widened half a fraction and she glanced from her screen and up toward Anthea. “Trouble in paradise?” She droned carelessly while tapping at her own phone. “You have no idea,” Nora muttered under her breath before tapping out a reply to her annoying best friend.

**10:59AM -**

**john, I’m at work!**

  
She rolled her eyes and sipped her soy caramel macchiato before sitting down in the chair in front of Anthea. “What is today’s meeting about, boss?” The brunette smirked and then looked away from her phone toward the direction of her dirty little secret. “Mycroft has been… _odd_ as of late. I don’t think he knows about us but…I’d rather be safe than sorry. From now on, we’ll only communicate through email and text. Try to make the phone calls as short and sparse as you can, Nora. Everyone thinks I’m the most efficient person in the business, all on my own, and I pay you handsomely so that it stays that way.” Nora nodded slowly in agreement before sipping her coffee. She tapped  the earpiece hidden within the crease of her ear to make sure that Louis was picking up all of this. 

Little did Anthea know, they were both benefiting from this little arrangement. Nora had had all of Anthea’s electronic devices tapped; untraceable and undetectable taps, of course. She also picked up little bits in the way Anthea behaved. Something big was coming, and even Nora’s boss could feel it. Mycroft Holmes had bigger fish to fry, though, so Nora wasn’t too worried; Or, Sadie, rather. Her phoned chimed deep within her pocket while Louis rambled on in her earpiece, cursing about how Sadie should stay away from John seeing as how it made it easier for her to just focus on being Nora Jackson.

  
**11:07AM JOHN-**

**naughty, turn your phone off.**

**mary and I will be at 221B with bells on, though.**

**you’ve been warned  xx**

  
Sadie squinted daggers at her phone before tucking it into her pocket again, not bothering to reply. Louis was partly right but she couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, being with John right now was exactly where she was meant to be. He was her best friend and she had actually been the second best (wo)man at his wedding alongside Harry, John‘s lesbian sister. He was stuck with her; They were stuck with each other. 

  
Anthea cleared her throat a bit, sat up, and gathered her things. “Mycroft will be here soon, so meeting adjourned, I suppose. I’ll text you over the weekend. Have you got any plans?” She was slightly shocked that Anthea actually sounded partially interested in her life. “Uh, no, just dinner with the boyfriend,” she answered poshly as they made their way to the club‘s entrance. Of course, Anthea wasn’t departing, she had to stay and wait for Mycroft so the two women nodded their goodbyes and parted ways.

  
                                                             **

  
“You’re really fucking stupid, you know that,” cried the Frenchman, as hushed as he could manage. Sadie walked ahead of him in her climbing shorts and tank top, utility belt swaying with her hips as she walked, trying her best to ignore him. “You’re muddling the lines between Nora’s boyfriend and Sadie’s best friend. Christ on a rubber crutch, that’s the first rule of espionage, don’t blend the lives of two of your covers. Even if your version of Sadie is only a tad different from the _real_ Sadie.” She rolled her eyes as they walked through the warehouse, the swish of her brown ponytail against the fabric of her shirt the only thing to be heard besides Louis’ frantic whispers.

She came to a stop, pointed her flashlight at him and raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue with his rant so they could be done with it; find the others; and focus on the task at hand. “All I’m trying to say is,” he started in his thick French accent, “ I’m starting to wonder. Is John your boyfriend or your best friend? Either way, he’s a fucking distraction. Not to mention, say Anthea managed to pry a name from you and put two and two together. Our entire operation would be blown because you and Watson frolic in flowers on the weekends.” Sadie sighed and she was about to stop him there, set him straight, tell him that she hadn’t even seen John for almost four months until that morning but then he pressed his pointer finger against her semi-parted lips and added, “Anthea may need a secret assistant to stay on top of Mycroft Holmes,” he paused and she kinked her eyebrow at his previous wordings, “but that doesn’t mean she’s stupid. She’s far from stupid. You know that. She’s got her hands in the pockets of billions of organizations; She knows things. That‘s why she‘s always tapping on that god-forsaken cell phone. We have all her records, all her texts, all her emails, everything. I could even tell you what color underwear she was wearing this morning.”

She straight-faced him. “Turquoise!”

“Bite me, Louis.” Sadie said when he finally moved his finger away from her lips.

  
He chuckled at her words, and then the two were back on their way to the far side of an abandoned warehouse in Central London. Once they reached the meeting spot, one floor above the men they were about to take down, they heard the whispers of two of their own. Angelica Harrison, an operative from Australia, and Danny Mason from Ireland. Sadie aimed her flashlight at them and their hushed laughter and whispering ceased. “Sure would’ve sucked if I was on the other team. You two would both be dead,” She said lowly, taking on an authoritative tone. The two operatives stood before their ruthless leader from where they were crouched, peeking through a gap in the floor where the crooks were sure to be meeting below.

“Director,” Angelica and Danny said lowly, in unison, nodding their heads once. Sadie did a mental head count and was about to ask as to the whereabouts of their fifth team member when a rope dropped down beside her and he came sliding down from above. Adam Ethakrivo, their Russian operative, in all his glory. “Sorry, I am late,” Sadie couldn’t even say anything in reply to him, she was too stunned. Adam did love a good entrance. Danny ran a hand through his spiky dark-ginger hair and cleared his throat, trying to bring everyone back into the moment. The lanky Australian girl beside him with shoulder length black hair and purple streaks coughed, “show off,” earning a toothy smile from the tall and buff Russian with dirty blonde hair who she’d said she would personally _climb like a tree_ on many occasions. 

Sadie tapped her earpiece before saying, “Sam, do you copy? Any movement?” Sam David was their sixth operative and he was from Tel Aviv. He was in a van up the road, parked behind a few bushes, Sofia Pergara from Venezuela and Mona Turkson from South Africa alongside him working tech support. Sam replied that there was movement and Sadie issued that they were all systems go, “We’re on codenames now, everyone knows where they belong, lets get down to it.”

Angelica whistled, as she moved to get down to her position “Down and dirty.” Adam winked at her as he climbed back up the way he’d come, sniper rifle hanging from his back as he made his way to protect the perimeter from a birds eye view. Danny tied himself with a rope through a loop on his utility belt and connected the same rope to a loop in Angelica’s while whispering, “could the two of you be any more obvious.” Mona snickered through the headset having heard what her boyfriend said and Sadie rolled her eyes, tapping Louis so they could head for the staircase and attack from the first floor. The two of them were in charge of hand-to-hand combat, Angelica and Danny were to attack from above if need be. 

  
“How’s it looking up there, Mother Rucker?” Angelica asked after tapping her earpiece, other hand firm on her glock in the holster attached to her utility belt. “Clear night time skies with a chance of blood rain, Angel face,” he purred back in that delicious Russian accent. Sofia smirked at the exchange, smiling at Mona in the close quarters of the van as she asked, “How are you holding up Ginger Snaps?” Danny sighed, “thinkin’ I might actually puke when ya combine hanging from this angle with listenin’ to the Russian and Australian flirt.”

Louis chuckled from his place, crouching on the staircase before all fell silent, hearing two men talking back and forth. Sadie’s hands clenched and unclenched, the tension was falling off of her like rain water. She hadn’t been letting the banter of her operatives soothe her as she normally would because she felt something in the air; she could feel that her life was about to change forever. The two men got to the center of the floor, right below Danny and Angelica, glancing into some wooden crates. Sadie’s heart rate picked up and she started breathing heavier. This sort of thing had never happened to her on any previous L.O.G.I outings and she knew that it was getting out of hand when Louis reached back to grip her hand. So far the two crooks had yet to notice anything was amiss in the mostly darkened warehouse but Sadie could feel something was wrong and all of her urges and feelings had come full circle and been confirmed when Adam crackled to life in her earpiece, “Alpha and Omega, I got a bad feeling up here. Something’s not right. I…I do not think we are alone.”

No sooner than he’d said it, Danny and Angelica came falling through the ceiling, a man in a black coat tangled up with them. Shots were fired and the two crooks were clipped, three bodies in a heap on top of them. Sadie’s mouth hung open and she yanked her earpiece from her ear to get rid of the frantic screams coming from the techies and the Russian up above. She and Louis shot down the metal staircase and ran toward the pile of bodies, relieved to hear groaning. Sadie’s face was more or less ashen until the man in the black coat shot upward, returning color to her. “ _You_ ,” she said, slightly shocked. It took the other three people a little longer to place the man in the barely illuminated room but once they did, they all just stared. Danny got up, pulling Angelica with him. The Australian woman gripped her arm, a semi-pained expression on her face. One look at her and Sadie placed that it was a dislocated shoulder. Danny kicked one of the injured men below him and then turned his attention to the asshole who had somehow managed to debunk their entire mission and still achieved capturing the bad men (mostly) unharmed. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Danny breathed.

  
The man brushed himself off and eyed Sadie again, “so this is where you go when I choose to follow Mrs. Hudson or John instead of you,” Sherlock asked in a cautious way, baritone ringing in the ears of the young woman before him.

Sadie just blinked, a small smile forming on her lips, a lock of hair hanging in her face. She reached to push the hair back before stealing a glance at her team, testing exactly how to reply to the man she idolized, the man she had though to be dead (well, not entirely). She stepped closer to him and he raised an eyebrow at her, looking over his shoulder at the other two people behind him before returning his full attention to her. She continued to wear that faint smile but brought a hand up to smack him across the face. A red mark was left in the wake of the action and her smile had turned into a grimace. “That was for John.”

  
“Speaking of _my_ dear best friend, does he know about this extracurricular of yours?”It sounded a hell of a lot like a threat and Sadie didn’t take too kindly to threats, however she played it cool because she was caught between rage and admiration for the man before her; rage for hurting John and admiration because Sherlock Holmes had single-handedly saved her life and it hadn’t been by solving a case or pulling her from a burning building, it had been by his sheer need to exist.

  
“ _My_ best friend doesn’t need to know about this. He doesn’t need to worry that another person he cares about will sod off of a ten story building,” she stepped closer to him, eyes ablaze with everything she felt towards this man and it was as if she could read him as he tried to size her up. He failed, of course, and the slight panic could be seen in his eyes. Hell, Sadie probably couldn’t deduce herself either, especially not as of late. She was so busy being other people and trying to take out Moriarty’s remaining men that she didn’t even know herself. She was an everlasting enigma.

Sherlock straightened a bit, tucking his hands in his pocket, “It was a four and a half story building.”

“Are ye two about done?” Danny croaked, hearing Adam finally coming down from the roof to the second floor above them. They all looked up at the thumping sound of his feet to find that when they looked back to where Sherlock had been, he was gone.

Sadie looked about the dimly lit room in a frantic sort of way before throwing her hands into the air, “Oh, bollocks.” Danny smirked at her, “good to see ya finally usin’ that in the proper context.” She looked at him and glared before hearing the men on the ground moaning again. “Let’s get these idiots to the van and get the hell out of here.”

Adam nodded at his superior, finally on the ground floor, tapping his earpiece. “Back to headquarters, we go.” Sam droned a bunch of stuff through the headset, protesting that the bad guys ride with them in the Hummer but Sofia was quick to tell him to man up and that, surely there was no room in the Hummer. Sadie re-inserted her ear bud and spoke specifically to Mona, “Make sure we aren’t being followed, Mo.” Mona agreed and Sadie took one last look around the shadows of the warehouse before watching as Louis and Danny carried a single man out of a rusty side door together and Adam carried another single-handedly.

  
“Perfect Thursday,” she muttered to herself before rubbing at her neck as though the action alone would be enough to ease her tension. Truth was, nothing would make her feel better. Knowing Sherlock Holmes had fooled the world with a gift much like the one she and her operatives called their own was exciting, but she dreaded the day John would find out about all of this; the pain he’d feel. She couldn’t lose John, she’d already lost a brother once and she wasn’t quite prepared to lose another one.

  
 _Brother_. He kind of earned that title over the past few months, hadn’t he? No matter how much he’d hurt her that morning, she would always forgive him because she couldn’t live without him now. That made things much harder than she’d prefer them to be, what with the constant weaving of her web of deceit; the very web she’d started weaving nearly a year ago when she stepped foot in front of 221B and met the man who was an unassuming force to be reckoned with.

Sadie paused for a minute in the entrance to the warehouse and her operatives stopped to look at her. “Director?” Questioned a pain-stricken Angelica as she held her arm completely still, looking as though she was dreading when Mona would pop her dislocated shoulder back into place at headquarters. “I forgot my flashlight,” Sadie muttered, “It’s got my prints all over it.”

Louis’ mouth formed into a grim line, “I’ll go with you”

  
“No,” Sadie shook her head, “It’ll be fine. I’ll be quick. Besides, Danny needs you to carry the fat guy. I can go it alone, no arguing. Three of you are carrying precious cargo and Angelica’s hurt so, I’ve got this.” She didn’t give them a chance to protest before she booked it back inside. It was, as she suspected, a lot harder to maneuver to the second floor without her flashlight and she was actually regretting not asking to borrow one of the others’ before going on this dummy mission but there was just something pulling her back inside; some invisible force.

She somehow managed to make her way up a flight of metal stairs where she only made it a few feet before she lost her footing on an unforeseen object and felt her feet fall through the very spot where Danny and Angelica had slipped before. She closed her eyes, bracing for her body to meet the ground for an undeniable impact but her arm was caught in something. It felt unmistakably like the loop of a warm hand. She opened her eyes and looked up to find calculating pale blue eyes staring back at her. She gasped and looked down to see the concrete floor she dangled above. “You should really be more careful. Didn’t your mother teach you not to go gallivanting into dark abandoned warehouses?” At his words, a pained look blossomed in her eyes but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. There was little illumination aimed at him and she figured she’d tripped on her flashlight and had fallen into the gaping hole. In the poor light she could surprisingly make out all the features of his face which was a lot closer to hers than previously, when she’d slapped him; he actually still had a red mark on his face. His remarkable face.

Before she could protest he was hoisting her up through the hole with a grunt. He turned to leave after picking her flashlight up and handing it to her, cracking his back as he went. She aimed the flashlight at his retreating form and he stopped in his tracks. “Thank you,” she said softly and without even turning around to look at her, he said, “John doesn’t need anyone else falling from a ten story building.”

“It was _four and a half_ stories. And this building is only two, I’m sure I would’ve been fine,” the amusement in her voice was clear and she could’ve sworn she heard him chuckling before Louis’ panicked voice called her from below. She looked away for only a second and when she turned back, Sherlock was gone. 

“Bollocks,” she whispered before leaving the warehouse and never looking back.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blah blah blah, more about Sadie's past and a confrontation with a sleuth.

 

“So… is this something I have to look forward to every year? For the rest of our lives?” Mary asked unenthusiastically, eying her husband as he dialed his former landlady. “What? Your husband being kind to his homesick American best friend on her semi-favorite holiday?” John wore a frustratingly adorable look on his face, feigning innocence and he thought Mary couldn’t possibly be mad at that face. He was wrong. Mary damn near turned red with anger. “Are you serious, John? It’s an American holiday. If she misses it so much, why doesn’t she just go back to America?”

 

John put his cell phone up to his ear, trying to avoid the confrontation he knew awaited him after the phone call was over. The sweet voice that greeted him on the other end was enough to bring that ache to his heart. He missed Mrs. Hudson, he missed his old life, he missed the danger. He loved Mary, he did, but he was so fucking bored with married life. Sadie was the closest thing to Sherlock and he missed her. Was it wrong? Maybe. Was he compensating for a loss? Definitely. But lately, Mary had been outright absurd about his relationship with the young American girl staying in his old flat.

 

First, Mary complained that John danced with Sadie (who looked very fucking lonely and a lot like she’d just lost her best friend) on their wedding night. Secondly, Mary was downright enraged when she’d found out John still had a key to the flat at 221B Baker Street; it was only for emergencies, of course. Now, Mary was pissed about the Thanksgiving thing. It was bad enough it seemed that his new wife was trying to keep he and Sadie apart indefinitely. Little did Mary Watson, nee Morstan know, she couldn’t keep John away from the battlefield.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson. I was just calling about the grocery list for tomorrows festivities…. What? You’ve already written it out and left it on the table for Sadie?” John paused, letting his elder speak on the other line, eyes lingering over to his wife who was very close to the exact shade of a tomato. “She shouldn’t have to do that, it’s her day… Well, alright if you insist.” Just then John heard yelling in Mrs. Hudson’s background.

 

_“I thought I said I didn’t want a stupid fucking Thanksgiving dinner.”_

Mrs. Hudson tried to calm the young woman to no avail and the younger of the two yelled, _“Tell him to sod off. Surely that’s a language he’ll understand.”_

The landlady scolded the young woman, telling her that what John was trying to do was a good gesture and she’d accept it or she’d have to find a new place to stay. It grew silent on their end of the line and John found himself gaping a bit, he’d never heard Sadie so angry and part of him wondered where it was all coming from. But all was quickly forgotten when he heard _“Fine”_ and Mrs. Hudson’s protest as the phone was snatched away from her.

 

“Sadie,” John said cautiously. “Don’t make me regret this. 2pm tomorrow afternoon. I’ll go get the groceries,” Her voice sounded so devoid of emotion and it almost scared him; it would’ve scared him if it didn’t break his heart.

 

**

 

Sadie put the phone on the hook and turned to scowl at Mrs. Hudson. “You are an interfering old woman, aren’t you?” The landlady merely folded her arms and nodded once. Sadie scoffed and rolled her eyes, snatching the grocery list off of the table before she hurried out onto the busy street.

 

“This should be interesting,” She said to herself, tugging on the purple gloves that were hidden away in her gray pea coat. She then began her uneventful walk to the grocery store, pulling the list out to glance at it, rolling her eyes at the obvious necessities; she didn’t even need a stupid list. She kept it anyway, though, because there were a few personal effects that Mrs. Hudson added toward the end.

About half way to the grocery store, she decided to take a detour. What harm could come from taking the long way? Before she knew it, she was down by an unexpected body of water. She’d never been to this part of the city, and for a moment, she cursed her mind for being so jumbled. She was lost and it was her own damn fault. All this time living in London and she’d never thought to explore on foot. If she were in her car, it’d be a hell of a lot different, but alas, she was indeed lost and on foot no less. She cursed under her breathe, she hated being lost; it wasn’t even the imminent threat of nightfall, she was trained in combat, it was just the feeling in the stomach that accompanied being unaware of where you were.

 

Sadie had spun around as if nothing was wrong, not wanting to draw attention to herself if anyone was around. She didn’t see anyone, the streets looked slightly deserted. She scouted for landmarks and found none, but she did see the tail end of a black coat disappearing behind a nearby blockade. She was being followed and she had her suspicions about who it could be. She turned around and pretended she hadn’t noticed him, knowing he couldn’t deduce the non-obvious about her was a plus.

 

She started humming to herself and when she was sure he was following her again, she turned around to face him head on. He didn’t look stunned, just pretended he was unaware of her altogether and headed toward the water and sand. She ran after him only to have him shed most of his clothes and dive into the water. According to a case on John’s currently inactive blog, she knew Sherlock could hold his breath for an alarmingly long time but that didn’t stop her from shedding most of her things and jumping in after him; she couldn’t even swim. She wasn’t sure what drove her to dive in after him, maybe it was just the thrill of catching him.

 

After she dived under and looked around from him, she popped back up, thankful she was still in the shallow water. But the body of water was unfriendly to her and it pulled her in much deeper than she could go and she lost her footing on the sand bed below and slipped deep beneath the water. She popped up and gasped, spinning around in a slight panic, looking for Sherlock but she couldn’t find him. Soon, her arms and legs got tired and she fell into what seemed like a wet abyss. All she could think about as she looked up to the dim light of the London sky above the surface of the water was how she was drowning; how she always knew that was how she’d die.

 

Flashes of her childhood played behind her heavy lids and the memories of how her father would hold she and Renee down in their bathwater as punishment was an ever-present horror as her body grew limp in the same way that it would all those years ago, waiting for a force above to pull her back up. Air hit her face and returned to her lungs but she could still feel the cool water all around her as it moved in waves. Something hard was against her and something was slapping her face. She coughed up water and fought to open her eyes, “Dad?” She said softly, voice hoarse. Sherlock was holding her firmly against himself, lightly slapping her face with his hand. “Open your eyes.” She blinked and groaned, slightly shocked as her vision settled and she could see that the man before her wasn’t her father. “Sherlock?”

 

Both of his hands cupped her face, looking into her big brown eyes as if to examine her. “I think it would be safe… to get you examined. Did you hit your head on any rocks down there?” Sadie shook her head, the action almost draining her and she didn’t protest a bit when he pulled her out of the water, laying her back on the sand, carefully. She stared up at him as he gathered up her things. He sat up and looked down at her, cheeks flushing red when he noticed her now see-through camisole and how it clung to her skin. He covered her with her coat as though he hadn’t seen a thing at all. Sadie laid there motionless and watched as he covered up with his own coat, teeth chattering lightly just as hers were. “Are you absolutely mad, following me into the water like that? You can’t even bloody swim. Not to mention it‘s damn near winter. This water will be freezing over soon.” She took the scolding because she was too cold and tired to argue that if he hadn’t been following her, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. Also, if he hadn’t gotten so deep under her skin last night, she wouldn’t have been so distracted today and walked nearly two miles in the wrong direction on auto-pilot.

 

He hoisted her up as he stood, scooping her up into his arms, bridal style. They were a few blocks from St. Bart's and carrying her would surely bring some warmth back into his body, not to mention she was light as a feather, even completely soaked. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face buried in his neck before she fell fast asleep, lulled by the feeling of his long legs carrying them both.

 

It was a few hours later when she woke (she checked by pulling her cell phone from her coat pocket, thankful that she’d left Nora’s Blackberry at home. There was no telling what Sherlock Holmes had snooped through during her horizontal life pause). She groaned and looked around the room, her hand on her head. She was clearly in a morgue but, surprisingly warm in a dry pair of clothes; a powder pink wool sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans (clearly borrowed as she’d never set eyes upon them in her life, and pink was never her color. Plus, the pants barely fit her in the hip region). A ginger woman was typing away at her laptop in the corner, only pausing when she’d heard the groan Sadie let out. “Am I dead?” The brunette asked the slightly older woman in the room. This earned a chuckle from the mousy, yet attractive woman. She sat up from the chair that clearly didn’t belong in the room and moved over to where the newly awaken woman sat, swinging her legs off of the side of the metal examination table she’d been resting on.

 

“No, you’re very much alive,” The woman in a lab coat said, clearly amused as she stared at Sadie, probably still examining her for signs of injury or to see if something was amiss. Behind her smiling eyes, there was a hint of something else, something Sadie couldn’t quite place but had seen a billion times before. _What was it?_ While she pondered that look, she deduced the woman before her with a fine-tooth comb. Single; early graduate; youngest at the hospital in her chosen field; poor cuticle care; awful brand of shampoo because of various split ends; bags under eyes could indicate she was awaken from a slumber very recently and that she hadn’t been getting much rest to begin with; she worked the night shifts obviously. Sadie paused for a moment. They were in a fucking morgue. “ _Molly Hooper.”_ , She said breathily before Sherlock came bursting through the door, grocery bags in tow. “Hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of picking these up for you since I nearly killed you, today. Also, you didn’t seem too keen to be picking them up to begin with.”

 

Molly’s face lit up within an inch of her life and Sadie immediately understood the look she’d seen in the mousy ginger’s eyes previously. _Jealousy._ Only question remaining is why on earth Mary Watson felt the need to look at her that way, also. Oh. _Oh_.

 

Sadie gnawed at her lip, eyes meeting Sherlock who was looking at her with a blank expression now, groceries forgotten on a silver examination table at the far side of the room by the only exit. “Don’t mind Molly,” Sherlock said softly and Sadie cleared her throat, tired of angling her head to look at him over her shoulder, seeing as her back was to the door. “We were just talking,” Sadie said simply.

 

“About?” Sherlock asked curiously. “Girl stuff,” Sadie said, hopping off of the examination table, her legs feeling like jelly. She almost fell but managed to catch herself, holding up a hand to ward off assistance from one Molly Hooper. “I’m fine,” She said stubbornly. It took a few moments for the feeling to return to her legs but when it did, she was practically sprinting to gather her belongings. She had her coat and scarf on when she turned to Molly who was standing rather close to her, a look of slight disbelief on her face. “Let me just say, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this for almost a year. Had no idea you had the balls. Not to mention, I think I recall seeing you at John’s wedding…. Wow.” Sadie shook her head and noticed the ashen look on Sherlock’s face from the closed freezer door he leaned against to the left of her.

 

She knew that look. She wore that exact look on the day of the wedding and every day since then whenever she was reminded that John _belonged_ to someone now. Mary hadn’t intentionally stolen John away from her and Sherlock, but the fact that it happened was all that mattered. Sadie cleared her throat and looked away when the sleuth locked eyes with her, moving over to see that Sherlock had managed to get everything on the list that had mysteriously vanished from her pocket while she was asleep. “You should be there, tomorrow.” She didn’t know why she said it. It was more of a statement than an invitation. She noticed Sherlock cocking an eyebrow at her when she turned her gaze from the unmoving grocery mart items and onto him. “221B for John’s special Thanksgiving celebration for me. Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary, and I are the only ones on the invitation list. But he deserves to know what Molly and I know; he deserves to feel what we feel, this massive weight lifted off our chests. God, you should see him. I remember the first time he talked about you to me. He stayed up all night.”

“I know.” Sherlock said simply, a bit of agitation in his voice. And of course he knew. He knew everything. The great Sherlock Holmes was everywhere at once. “You don’t _know_ ,” Sadie argued softly. It was a lot easier to look in from the outside but to actually be there, right in front of John, and feeling that raw emotion was another thing entirely. Sherlock made his way to her from across the room and Molly watched in awe before Sherlock asked her to excuse herself, she obliged. The door swung back and forth in Molly’s wake. Sadie watched the door in favor of looking at the calculating blue eyes, the ones she couldn’t stop staring at earlier that day after her near death experience.

 

“This is the second time you’ve almost died because of me. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I took you away from him. For some peculiar reason you, Sadie Simza Heron, are making it easier for him to accept that I’m gone.” Sherlock started.

 

“Yeah, but you’re not gone!” She cut him off, looking to him angrily. “I am for now,” he said carefully, mostly because he wasn’t quite sure he could trust her completely and it was partly due to the fact that he couldn’t crack her code; couldn’t bring her firewalls tumbling down, so to speak. “It’s dangerous for John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade if I come back. Moriarty’s men are still out there waiting to fulfill their liege’s dying wish if they even sense I faked the fall.”

 

“Only two are left. Malcolm and Sebastian. Me and my agents are all over it,” Sadie said stubbornly.

Sherlock scratched his chin in thought before saying, “Yes, about that. Could you amateurs maybe not try to do my job for me?” She folded her arms across her chest, stepping closer to him as if to stand her ground, “We’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than you have. Besides, we thought you were dead. We didn’t mean to step on your toes. I only based my headquarters in London because the whole Moriarty thing is a bit personal for me. I wanted to finish it, seeing as how someone who dived head first off of this very building was assumed very much dead and very much incapable of finishing the job himself.”

 

Sherlock stared down at her for a few moments, knowing when to say when. “Who are you?” he yelled in slight frustration before reaching up to tug at his hair. She felt kind of bad for him. She assumed he’d only resorted to following her because after pulling her record and finding absolutely nothing (a little L.O.G.I trick she had Sam to thank for), he was completely stumped. Now, she wouldn’t expect him to stay in the dark forever, Sherlock was a smart man and she had dropped more than enough jigsaw puzzle pieces for him to try to pull together. She smirked at him before gathering all of her bags, “Show up to John’s new favorite restaurant tomorrow at 5pm, I know you know the one. He’ll be at the bar having a few drinks before heading to 221B. He’ll be with Mrs. Hudson and his wife. Dress accordingly.”

 

She added, “Formal, of course,” when he stared at her, slightly confused as to what one was supposed to wear on such a ‘holiday’.

 

Sadie was about to walk out of the door when she turned to look back at him, eyes softening, “You saved my life twice, Holmes. My men have got you covered for an evening. It’s the least I can do. Sooner or later Malcolm and Sebastian will be taken down and you won’t have to worry about them, but until then, just keep hidden. After tomorrow, of course.” And, just like that she was gone, leaving a conflicted Sherlock Holmes in a empty and sterile morgue with those he was thought by many to share two characteristics; cold and non-breathing.


	6. Chapter Six

“I’m going to meet John and Mary at the restaurant down on Branford. You can pull the bird out of the oven, can’t you, deary?” Mrs. Hudson stuck her head into Sadie’s bedroom. The younger of the two turned around, placing a teardrop diamond into her ear so as to match on both sides, “Uh, sure. I think I can manage that much,” Sadie answered, wearing a sparkly navy blue baby doll dress, trying to be somewhat helpful with preparations. She’d been at work yesterday afternoon when John rolled up his sleeves and got elbow deep into cooking and basting the turkey; by the time she got home she was told rather plainly by Mrs. Hudson that she‘d only have to prep cold food and sides such as Caesar salad and mashed potatoes with gravy. It wasn’t very hard to pretend she was clueless when it came to prepping, because she was. Sadie had never had a real family dinner, last year was the first time and she hadn’t known John would even make the effort. Of course, none of her friends knew that; she had them all thinking her fake mother and fake grandmother banned her from the kitchen after some food-related debauchery.

 

“You look beautiful,” Mrs. Hudson said after a small pause, nodding her head in slight approval as the younger woman slid into a tight fitting black cardigan with a letter ’S’ scrawled onto the pocket in calligraphy. Shrugging her shoulders noncommittally, she eyed Mrs. Hudson who was a vision in black slacks and a turquoise shirt John had given her last Christmas. “You look lovely, too, Mrs. Hudson.”

 

They walked together into the kitchen and after receiving a few instructions, Sadie checked the time on the pocket watch at the end of her necklace; the one she saved for only special occasions. It was well past the time Mrs. Hudson was due to arrive to the bar where Mary and John were waiting to be escorted back to 221B after a round or two of drinks. Sadie actually wouldn’t mind a drink herself because between being constantly bombarded with texts from her operatives and the nerves from tonight’s festivities, she was wrecked emotionally.

 

“I’m off now, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to miss anything,” The old woman said the last bit jokingly, winking as she brushed past her tenant to go retrieve her coat and dash out the door. A rush of air came spilling out of Sadie as she leaned against the stove, waiting until she heard the front door close before grabbing the already open bottle of cooking wine from the counter. She tilted the bottle into her mouth and took two gulps. “ _You have no idea_ ,” she muttered in response to her landlady’s last words, knowing she’d get no reply.

 

**

 

“I’m going to powder my nose,” Mary said matter-of-factly, shooting John a dirty look for about the thirtieth time that day. He sighed, looking to the ceiling in frustration, “Fine.” He instantly regretted saying anything at all when he saw her retreating form, silver ankle-length dress swaying along to the aggressive clicking of her matching silver heels.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Asked a voice that damn near made John jump from his skin; he knew that baritone, he’d know it anywhere. His shoulders squared and he turned his neck slowly to see the man behind him with the piercing blue eyes, raven hair, and pale skin. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell, he wanted to cry, he wanted to do a million things at once. “I was watching you from across the room..” Sherlock started and John just looked to the entrance and back at him again, about to open his mouth and speak until he saw Mrs. Hudson approaching whilst rummaging through her coin purse. His eyes widened to the size of quarters as he watched his former landlady throw her coin purse into the air, startled almost half to death upon taking in the man before her. The coin purse landed in someone’s soup. Sherlock looked damn near dismal as he stared over in the direction of the sunken coin purse and complaining patron. “Nice to see you all, also. But can we at least go back to 221B before we start any inevitable scenes?” Silence. “I’ll meet you all there, then.” Sherlock finished before making an even quicker exit as he saw John stand to, as he deduced, punch him square in the face.

 

The aggressive clicking of heels followed the groan of disapproval that rang out through the restaurant and bar when Mrs. Hudson went to retrieve her fallen coin purse. “What have I missed?” Mary asked curiously, now out of her three day funk, all of a sudden. John looked at her, squinted, and then left the restaurant with the two women he knew so well right on his coat tail.

 

**

 

Sadie sat idly on the floor across from the oven, the illuminated turkey inside seeming to taunt her. There was still about forty minutes on the timer. “You suck,” she said, taunting the bird right back.

 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?” Sadie, only slightly buzzed, narrowed her eyes at the voice coming from the sitting room doorway. By the time she registered that it was Sherlock, she’d already turned her head to look in the direction of his haunting voice. She felt warm and fuzzy inside, kind of floaty too, as she tried to stand. Her equilibrium had one job and it failed her; Sherlock was in front of her now, though, and he made up for what she lacked by helping her to stand. “Thanks,” She said softly before chancing a glance at his emotionless face. She burst into a fit of laughter, finding a black mustache and goatee firmly intact on his face. “Oh god, you look as ridiculous as John with that thing on your face.”

 

Sherlock nodded a bit in agreement before seemingly remembering just how close he was standing to her and trying to back away. “Wait,” Sadie said seriously, “Come here.” She tugged him to her and reached up to gently peel the faux facial hair guise off of his (as she previously thought) flawless face. “What are you doing?” He tried to snap at her but his voice failed him; he sounded more like a man scolding an adorable kitten. “You don’t need these here, Holmes,” was her answer and she said it quite softly and simply. He opened his mouth to say something to her but before he could get the words out, he heard the front door downstairs slam shut. “Sadie!” John yelled, his voice sounding a mixture of strained and worried. Sadie jerked back to separate from the man before her, her hands having been lingering on the smooth skin just above his lips.

 

It was only a matter of seconds before the newly arrived trio appeared in the sitting room doorway. Sadie peered over at them, her slight intoxication evaporating completely upon remembering she had a cover to protect; Sherlock Holmes being well and alive changed absolutely nothing. John had sweat on his brow, forcing her to deduce that he’d left the restaurant early and abruptly, most-likely due to the fact that he was in hot pursuit of his friend who was supposed to be dead; the friend he’d seen die with his own two eyes.

 

“Get away from her.” spat John, shocking everyone in the flat into utter silence. Sherlock and John had a staring match for all of two moments before the taller of the two rolled his eyes and stepped away from the woman before him. “What in the bloody hell is going on, are you even going to try to explain because I’m personally dying to hear all about how you pulled it off. I’m not even sure if I’m seeing …” John paused then glanced to Mary and Mrs. Hudson, “You see him too, right?”

 

Sadie did her very best to hold back her laughter, because though this particular situation wasn’t the funniest in the world, it tickled her to see just how much of an idiot John could be. But of course, even in the blinding light of day, not everyone could _see._

 

"Of course we bloody see him," Mrs. Hudson sniped uncharacteristically. Sadie eyed Sherlock through her peripheral and noted that though his being alive changed absolutely nothing, it put her in a hella sticky situation. A ghost of a smirk played at his lips and she nearly rolled her eyes. _Bastard_.

When Sadie finally grew enough balls to steal a glance at John, he was looking at her in a quizzical fashion. He was, no doubt, wondering why she wasn't more alarmed by the presence of a complete stranger. Her movements began to resemble that of a child who'd been caught sniffing around the cookie jar in the kitchen. "...No," was all John could muster. The sound of just that single word nearly broke her heart into a thousand pieces.

 

"What is this, then?" John asked, voice low, as he approached Sherlock. The lankier of the two straightened up and Sadie's eyes grew wide as she watched Mary and Mrs. Hudson snap into place what she was far too slow to; call her dim-witted when being faced with all things emotional. "Did you lie to her, too? Use her to get close to me? To do more damage?" Dr. Watson's fists clenched and unclenched and Sherlock looked to the girl he'd just tried to sabotage for help. Sadie smirked because, oh how the tables had turned. "John," she said softly, barely above a whisper, stepping in between the two men. Dark eyes locked to light ones, barely acknowledging the girl in between. Before Sadie could open her mouth to explain, in chimed Mary with an opinion that literally _no one_ asked for. "They've clearly been working together. She's not clueless, I mean, look at her. If she was being _used_ by him, she'd have punched him _for_ you. Trust me, I know a bit about espionage and I've never trusted her."

 

Sadie wanted to face-palm. "OH BOLLOCKS, MARY. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ESPIONAGE?" It grew silent in the room and Mary started to turn a shade of red. She opened her mouth to shout a retort but Sherlock broke down into a fit of laughter before she could, leaning against the counter for support. Sadie shot an annoyed look behind her where the detective was in stitches, "What the hell is so funny?" No answer, just more laughter. John clenched his jaw and stared at his new best friend who was shocked by his general closeness. Sadie squirmed away under his gaze and the heat that radiated from him, almost bumping into a sobering Sherlock in the process. He placed his great big hands on her shoulders and gave a light squeeze, voice serious when he stated, "I'm sorry, you're just so cute when you're annoyed."

 

She wanted to slap him, anything that would get him away from her, because she realized what exactly he was up to. First, he tried to execute her and see what secrets she'd spill once she'd been caught out but he underestimated her relationship with John. Now, he was saving her ass and her cover but only so she'd owe him one. A part of her also liked to think it was because he was testing out a few theories swimming around in the big brain of his. "But no, lovely Mrs. Watson," He smiled and it didn't reach his eyes,"I wasn't enlisting spies, I can spy on John just fine. I happened to run into Sadie while doing said spying and we..."

 

Sadie tried not to look absolutely gobsmacked with where this whole conversation was headed but one look at John's face and it was almost comical. He had raised a brow and folded his arms, taking on his infamous power stance. "You what?" Sherlock stared at his former soldier and that soldier wavered. It was something unspoken between them just then and Sadie didn't have to be a mind reader to guess what it was. There was no doubt in her mind as to the extent of what Sherlock knew about them; she and John. "We fell in love. She didn't know who I was. I didn't lie to her, I just didn't tell her the truth. It was to protect her." Sadie blinked slowly, letting this all sink in. For all it's worth, this shiny new strand was not welcome in her intricate web of deceit. She especially hated the look it implanted deep within the depths of those eyes she adored. Clearing her throat she tried to muster up further validation, "That's why I was upset with you the other morning. I wanted you.." Her voice cracked a bit, "I wanted you to meet him."

 

Sherlock leaned in a pressed a kiss to the temple of his equal and before John could say anything, his calculating eyes taking the 'couple' in, the oven chimed and Mrs. Hudson bustled to save the bird and put it on the table. Yes, Sadie may have been Sherlock's equal but even she couldn't deduce the slight pouncing stance John had taken once his former partner was in clear view and not cowering behind a woman; she didn't know John's first blow would hit against deadly high cheekbones. She stepped out of the way as the two grown men rolled about on the floor but she wasn't far enough out of reach when Mrs. Hudson shot a spray of water at all of her house guests. "Boys! Stop that this instant!"

 

"I need a drink," uttered Mary from the somewhere on Sadie's right, she couldn't tell, her eyes were shut tight and she was drenched.

 

                                                                      **

 

Sadie sat at the table set up only for special occasions, shivering, wrapped up in one of Mrs. Hudson's new periwinkle bath towels. "I didn't mean to-" Sadie raised her hand weakly to stop her landlady before she went on a complete rant of apology. "I get it, I was collateral damage," she said, teeth chattering all the while. Sherlock stood silently, water dripping down his lanky form as he watched Sadie. He was waiting for her to say something in regards to him, a part of him guessed she was a rational being and knew that she had just as much to lose by outing him. "I don't approve," John said, walking into the room, rubbing a towel against his head. Both Sadie and Mary looked up, peculiar expressions masking both their faces. _That makes two of us_ , Sadie thought to herself. "John-", Mary started to speak but John just held up his hand to stop her from going any further.

 

"No. I think I have _every_ right to say that I don't approve. Sadie, _not him_ ,anyone but him."  His face showed zero emotion but it was all in his eyes, that pleading look she'd seen only a handful of times, she didn't know whether to be angry with him or captivated by him and his sudden burst of passion. "Sherlock and I are in love and though he lied by omission, I just can't bring myself to even give a damn, quite frankly." Sadie looked over at the man in question and gave him her famous half-smile, leaving Sherlock with a feeling of unease. "He's honestly not to be trusted. He lied to us all! He had us all left alone to pick up the pieces of our lives!" John's voice cracked toward the end of his rant and any trace of a smile vanished from her face, her eyes leaving the man who was forcing her into an awkwardly tight corner of deception. She knew that she'd have to go along with this lie and hope that one day it would all be normal again, that John wouldn't be looking at her the way that he'd been in that moment, and that the aching in her heart would subside. "I'm sorry. I didn't ask for any of this. You honestly don't have _any_ right to try to pry this bit of happiness away from me. I trust him just as you once did and anything that's happening now is between the two of you, don't bring me into it." She stood, glanced at everyone and then retired to her room.

 

The more Sadie sat there and replayed the events of the night, the more wound up she became. Her entire cover was almost blown and she'd just barely saved it, her only accomplishment was bringing Sherlock out of hiding (at least in regards to his friends and family). Louis was going to kill her when he found out the new developments in the life of her cover. The lies were piling up and if she said she wasn't stressed out, she'd be fucking lying. 

"Knock, knock", called a voice from the other side of her door, a voice she told herself she never wanted to hear again. He didn't wait for her to grant him access to her room like a normal person. He wasn't a normal person. Sherlock entered the room and shut the door firmly behind him, the only thing illuminating him was the moonlight filtering in from the open curtains.

"What do you want?" Sadie snapped, eyes hardening in the darkness, regardless of if he could even see her. She heard him sigh and made a vow to punch him on the other side of his face if he'd come to apologize to her. "You invited me to this.... _dinner_ , remember."

Her lid damn near blew off just at the mere disgust she heard in his voice as he, not only dissed her semi-favorite holiday but, tried to make this all out to be her fault. "I didn't request that you all but ask John for my hand in marriage!"

 "I was testing a theory" Sherlock said calmly, an edge to his voice that wasn't there previously. At his words, Sadie quickly stood from where she was sat on her bed in the dark. "I am not your guinea pig!" She spat out and the room grew silent, so much so that she began to question if he'd slipped through the cracks in the floor. It wouldn't be the first time he pulled a cloak and daggers act.

"Sherlock."

"You're right. You're not. But that doesn't take away from the fact that you're a distraction."

She rolled her eyes and though he couldn't see her, she knew he was fully aware of the action. "Me?! I'm the distraction. Jesus, you sound like Louis— only, according to him, John is the distraction."

"You're both distractions. Your obvious feelings for each other cloud absolutely everything."

"Feelings?! What feelings?! I don't have feelings for John." It wasn't a lie. She loved John but not in the way he loved her, not in the way everyone assumed. "This is insane..", She added, fueling a whispered argument between the two.

"Be careful what you wish for, Sadie. You asked for me to tell my family, my loved ones, anyone I've ever cared about that I'm alive and well. All the consequence is yours and yours alone." He sounded smug enough to make her want to hit him.

"Bullshit," she stepped closer to the sound of his voice and then a long silence followed immediately after. "You are such a _child_." She whispered harshly, challenging him in the darkness.

"Me?! I'm a child?!" He nearly scoffed, advancing on her.

"I only asked you to come out of the shadows because I got TIRED of seeing the suffering of people I've come to know and love." She used her index finger to prod him in the dark, hitting what she assumed was his shoulder.

He grabbed her hand just as quickly and held it tightly, staring down at her in the darkness as he spoke, "The minute you let anything bother you on an emotional level is the exact moment you get people killed and covers blown! Even a child should know that." He dropped her hand as though the mere exchange had left a burn upon his skin.

A shakey edge to her voice, she piped out,"Oh, bite me! You have no idea what it was like, you weren't here. You were blissfully unaware! Stalking them doesn't make you aware of their nightmares, Sherlock Holmes. If anything, it just makes it easier for you to ignore it all," in a harsh whisper before turning her back to him.

She'd meant every word spoken but she was, now more than ever, certain that she'd never be able to tell him that she was counted amongst the ones who adored him and missed him and mourned his absence with an ever-present ache in the heart.

She turned around to chastise him further but he was gone. 


	7. Chapter Seven

"You have to forgive him. It's what your therapist would say," Mary said, clearly not in the best of moods but trying to be a supportive wife no less.

John stared at her from across the dinner table, swirling scotch about in a drinking glass. "Honestly, I have yet to even think about him since I took a swing at him. I'm just...trying to piece together the shards of this broken night. It all started out innocently enough, did it not?"

Mrs. Watson nodded her head at her beloved husband's words as the landlady came to take her place at the head of the table, plate full of food. "You have got to be kidding me," John said, looking at the older woman who only smiled before digging into her plate.

"You seem to be forgetting that we all had a pool going."

"For all of a week when we were all in denial about his death. No, sorry— denial is what you all experienced, I experienced sheer agony and inability to accept that my best friend was dead." John stated plainly as the sounds of a face being stuffed with food filtered into the room.

"Doesn't matter. I won, and that is what matters," said Mrs. Hudson in between chews.

John was about to send a retort her way when a wayward consulting detective came walking into view. They locked eyes and Sherlock immediately wanted to be sick all over the food at the table. He could understand John's clearly misplaced feelings for the operative living under their old roof but he didn't want to be in the middle of it all and he was cursing inwardly for being the one to put himself there.

"I think I'll retire," the sleuth said to no one in particular.

"Trouble in paradise?" Mrs. Hudson stopped eating long enough to inquire.

Sherlock's brow furrowed momentarily before realizing what was being implied, "No.... I just realize that I've got bigger problems to deal with in the morning."

"Do tell," John droned, trying to seem as uninterested as possible. Sherlock smirked.

"Well, Mycroft knows the truth now — I notified Anthea — and while I'm mildly worried about his reaction...I'm more concerned about _the woman_. Since Mycroft knows, it could be mere moments until she finds out. She probably already knows."

John gave a tight-lipped smile, eyes not meeting those of his former companion as he stared down at his now empty drink glass. "You're not only springing the fact that you're alive onto one of the worlds most dangerous women, but also that you managed to secure a committed relationship within the past year. When you were thought to be dead. Good luck."

Sherlock paused in putting on his outdoor gear, gloves in hand, and raised his eyebrows as John's words registered. "Maybe... keep Sadie inside tomorrow," He said, addressing Mrs. Hudson now, a departing pat on her shoulder as he made his way out the door and down the stairs, not once looking back.

 

**

"What do you mean you'll do it _for_ me? You can't. It's a bank deposit. Don't be absurd." Sadie eyed her landlady in the most peculiar way as she edged past her, out the front door and onto Baker Street.

Arguably, it could be determined that Mrs. Hudson had more that what one could consider a look of worry and sheer panic brewing in her eyes. However, Sadie had things to do today. She prioritized and divided her weeks between _just Sadie_ errands and _just Nora_ errands, it was a crazy way to live but by the weekends, she'd be mostly free—unless, of course, she had to play super spy with her operatives. Just thinking about them, in that moment, reintroduced dread into her bloodstream. Decidedly, she shook every stressful thing from her mind, focusing on the task at hand. Sadie was well aware of where her day would end up if she even spared herself one moment to dwell on what Louis would say upon discovering last nights turn of events.

As she made her way to cross the road toward the bank that awaited her on the other side, she heard the screeching of tires against the bricked road. Her eyes grew wide realizing that a red motorcycle was heading straight for her. She panicked, bracing herself for impact just as something hit her body. From the wrong direction. She could vaguely make out the sound of the screeching tires rounding another corner, now to the left of her, from her place on the cold and unforgiving ground. Her eyes were shut tight, her body shivering only lightly.

"Honestly, the mother jokes are no longer jokes at this point. They are, from now on, serious inquiries."

Sadie let out of a breath that she'd no idea she had been holding, eyes flitting open instantly at the sound of his voice. She stared up at him and at the small crowd of people who were slowly starting to disperse and get back to their daily routines. He was wearing yet another guise and she almost rolled her eyes because she was pretty sure she'd told him to keep hidden. After a small moment of serious reflection, Sadie realized that the ever present weight on top of her was no doubt the weight of Sherlock's body and she gave the hardest shove imaginable. "Shove off," She said bitterly.

He didn't look surprised, only the slightest bit wounded as he dusted himself off. "Do they not look both ways before crossing roads in America?" He sassed.

Sadie stared daggers at him before standing up on shaky legs that threatened to knock her over once more. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, as it were," he said, a fake grin coming to his face afterward. She ignored the gesture before proceeding toward the bank. Nothing was going to stop her from doing her _just Sadie_ things today. Just because she and John were at odds, nothing was going to stop her from her routine. Not even near-death. She didn't have to look to know Sherlock was hot on her trail, though.

When she went to pull the door open, she looked at him— _really_ looked at him. "Something tells me that if it were not for you, I wouldn't have needed saving in the first place."

He stared her down, standing his ground just as she would have suspected, "Or if you, perhaps, would have just stayed home today."

Sadie narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Are you going to follow me all day?"

He didn't answer, and the pause gave her time to take in his ridiculous ginger hair and matching ginger facial hair. He looked like a walking cheeto. When it was clear he didn't intend on answering her, she began to enter the bank. He piped up,"I can't go in there with you," earning a noncommittal shrug from Sadie as the door swung shut and she made her way to the teller booth.

Her deposit had gone off without a hitch and she decided afterward that a trip to the ladies room was in order.

Upon opening the door to the restroom, the lights flickered. Sadie thought nothing of the lights but what caught her attention were the muddy boot prints leading into a stall. She thought long and hard about going to the stall but she knew that whoever was in here was likely not going to actually be where the footprints led. She deduced all possible exit strategies and there just weren't any good ones. It also didn't help that she'd walked into a dimly lit room that she knew nothing about. There were too many variables working against her.

She did the only thing that made sense. "You aren't the best motorcyclist, I take it."

No response. Sadie didn't dare to move anything but her head, as if to give her ears a better chance of penetrating the silence while also, looking around to assess her surroundings constantly. She couldn't hear anything but she could feel she wasn't alone. She went to take a step further into the restroom and an unfamiliar female voice shot out at her.

"You are quite the little daredevil aren't you?" Sadie was grounded, body frozen as she pinpointed that the voice was coming from behind her, not in the stall just ahead of her. "I'll have you know, dear _girl_ , I am brilliant at _everything_ I do. If not for Sherlock intervening, as I knew he would, you'd be permanently stuck to the pavement."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she could sense a shift in the air, indicating that the mystery biker was moving closer. Sadie wanted to slap herself because, _of course_ he knew her. It all made sense now. What pissed her off most was that everyone knew this woman, their pitiful attempts to keep her indoors today proved that. But she was more than aware that they'd poorly misjudged this woman and her power. No amount of staying indoors, cowering, would keep her away.

"So this is about Sherlock," Sadie tested.

"Isn't everything?" She shot back instantly.

"He break your heart, then? Is that it? Well, I'll have you know that it's not what you think. He and I—"

The woman started to laugh,"Oh, sweetheart. I wasn't born yesterday." The laughter cut into Sadie for a reason she couldn't readily explain but any discomfort she felt was quickly shot to hell when the woman started to edge her way into view. "I know exactly what he's doing and I think it's brilliant. But you know what I don't think is brilliant? The fact that, though your relationship with him is make-believe, it isn't _really_. Is it?"

The mysterious woman was now fully in front of Sadie, ruby red lipstick the first thing registering. Next, it was the dark hair like silk. Then, the piercing and calculating eyes. Lastly, the way she towered over all five foot seven inches of Sadie. _Irene Adler._ A smile graced those beautifully stained lips at the mere inkling of recognition that showed up in the eyes of the younger woman before her. "I don't know what you're talking about," Sadie finally replied.

Irene's eyes darkened for a moment. "You will when I bring up the dinner you'll be attending, tonight," she quipped, her lovely accent sounding acidic and distant as she waved Nora's blackberry only inches away from Sadie's face.

A horrified expression bloomed on the lovely features of the spy who'd been literally pick pocketed and figuratively backed into the darkest corner she'd seen in her life. She knew which dinner Adler had meant and going to said dinner meant blowing everything.

"I can't."

"Oh, yes you can. And you will."

"Or you'll what? You won't hurt me."

"No, but I might hurt your crappy motorcyclist of a friend tied up in that stall over there." Irene said smartly, a small smile on her lips as she gestured to the stall with the muddy boot prints leading to it.

Sadie violently brushed past Irene and pushed the stall door open to find a tied up Louis, staring at her with pleading eyes. Irene had no clue what she'd just done but the younger of the two was more than ready to play hardball.

"See you, tonight," she spat toward Irene before brushing past her again, yanking the blackberry from her grasp, and exiting the locked restroom. The sound of maniacal laughter sent chills up her retreating spine.

Upon exiting the bank, she only managed to walk two blocks before Sherlock popped up beside her. "Why do you need to deposit money into the bank? You don't work."

Trying her best not to roll her eyes or let on that she was pissed with him, she answered, "My brother sends me checks. I'm guessing they are small withdrawals from his numerous bank accounts. I started receiving them the second I stepped foot onto English soil."

"I wasn't aware you had siblings."

"There's a lot of things you aren't aware of," she mumbled before turning onto Baker Street.

 

 

**

 

"Nothing personal, but I just don't want to go to dinner, tonight," Sadie said while entering the sitting area, where her friends sat in fine attire, in some purple pajama pants and a white camisole.

"Why not.... _pumpkin_?" Sherlock asked, a pained expression touching his face as the pet name left his pouty lips.

His faux girlfriend tried her best not to smile at the discomfort only she could see, his back toward the other three people in the room from where he stood facing her in the doorway.

"I think it's too soon to meet your brother and his...."

"Assistant," Sherlock finished.

"Right."

"Come on, we'll make date night out of this," Mary tried, but it sounded completely forced.

John shook his head in frustration,"She doesn't want to come. Stop trying to force her. Besides, with Lestrade there as an unclaimed party, how could it ever be date night?"

"Molly's coming," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John stuck out his bottom lip and gave a slight nod before retorting,"No doubt she'll be bringing a date to make you jealous."

"Mrs. Hudson is coming," Sherlock challenged.

John folded his arms, blinking a few times in frustration, "She doesn't count. She's a widow. Technically still married."

The landlady looked lost and the least bit offended, "You know that I can hear you, right?"

The super sleuth rolled his eyes dramatically before letting off a sigh. "Barely– and nothing changes the fact that I don't want Sadie staying here alone while we are all out enjoying fine dining."

"I'll be fine. I'll have some friends over," She said carelessly with a dismissive wave of her hand.

" _Friends_?" The other four people in the room inquired in unison.

Sadie sighed, "Yes, I do have friends, believe it or not." She sat down in Sherlock's arm chair and watched as the others stood, debating on whether they should take their leave.

"Not," Sherlock stated plainly.

Sadie squinted at him before nearly shouting, "Go!"

"Give us a kiss then," Sherlock said, moving over to stand in front of his armchair in as little as three strides.

With a kink of her eyebrow, she stared up at him, not daring to take her eyes off of him as she said,"If you want it, come get it."

He kinked his eyebrow in return, challenging her silently before leaning down to her face and cupping it in his strong and capable hands. "I don't know what you're up to, but I will piece it together before the night is through," he whispered harshly to her, blue eyes locked to amber ones.

"I'm sure you wi—," Sadie started to whisper back before his lips captured hers. Her eyes remained open for all of three seconds before fluttering shut. Her hands didn't know where to go, one wandering to the back of his neck, the other finding an elbow.

After a few moments of lip-locking had passed, Sherlock pulled away from her. In that moment, someone cleared their throat from the other side of the room. John, no doubt.

"Do enjoy your evening," Sherlock said as he straightened up and smoothed the front of his coat, out of habit.

Sadie spared a glance at the other retreating forms and saw the hurt expression on the face of her best friend before he ducked out of the room and down the stairs.

Watching Sherlock's retreating form, it occurred to her more and more that with each passing day, she was only getting closer to relocating after the job was done.

There was no way she could stay now and she had a feeling that tonight would only solidify that for her.

After about fifteen minutes of solitary thought, she went to get changed into her stupid catering guise for the evening. She and Angelica had devised a plan earlier that afternoon after her little trip to the bank.

_"What do you mean we're fucked?" Asked a very confused Australian from the other end of the line._

_Sadie was sat in the farthest corner of her bedroom, speaking into her blackberry as silently as she could manage, "I mean, our cover has been blown. Some bitch is using Louis as leverage against me."_

_"I knew something was wrong! I tried to tell Danny and the others. Louis went to confront you last night and never came back. He texted Danny something weird about Sherlock and fell off the radar," Angelica paused, "Why don't we just take her out."_

_The thought had crossed her mind a few times, but she knew Irene wasn't one of the bad guys, and she wasn't in the business of taking out innocents. "No, we can't. Louis basically gave me the all-clear. He's the one we go to when stuff like this happens; when covers are about to be blown. I'm pretty sure he wants me to do this."_

_Angelica was silent for a stretch and Sadie almost thought she'd put the phone down and wandered off to do other things like she often did due to her short attention span. "So what are we going to do? Infiltrate the party in disguises and what?"_

_"Prove our worth. Think about it. No one else has blown my cover as Nora, only Irene knows about that," Sadie stopped for a moment, hearing the floor creak outside her door, only to decide it was probably just Mrs. Hudson innocently walking around._

_"Sherlock knows about L.O.G.I and that's it. If I waltz in there and lay it all on the table for them, I'm golden. Irene won't have leverage over me anymore and I can get Mycroft to strong-arm Louis out of her custody."_

_"We'd just have to do all of this without her knowing we're coming and before she decides you won't show up and offs our second in command," Angelica said, wanting to make sure her dauntless leader knew how crazy and out of a Tom Cruise movie it all sounded. What they did was crazy but this was ten times the crazy._

_The director of The League Of Greater Intelligence chuckled darkly,"Sweetie, we're at an advantage. I don't even think they know she's coming. They'll be too busy focusing on the elephant in the room to focus on the help."_

_There was a new urgency in Angelica's voice now, "Can you confirm that?"_

_"I'll have an answer for you by the time you show up here, tonight. Have Mona deliver my uniform for the catering company ASAP, along with one of the pretty wigs. You'll do good to wear one, too. Sherlock has seen you," She ended the call before any fussing could filter it's way through to her end._

There was a knock at the front door of 221B Baker Street. Sadie took one last look at herself in her full length mirror before grabbing her peacoat and going to answer it. She swung open the door and nearly died from laughter. Angelica, however, was far from amused. "I look ridiculous," she said in mock horror.

Sadie reached out to touch the blonde wig in place on the head of the operative before her. "No...just slutty," she paused, raised an eyebrow, and looked down at her identical attire,"What is with these french maid outfits, anyway?"

Angelica shrugged,"Maybe a Mycroft fetish? I am, however, loving the jet black wig and fringe on you."

Sadie rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and closed the front door behind her, locking up. "Let's just get this over with. Sam, Sofia, and Mona are working tech, right?"

They started to walk toward the street, Sadie hailing a cab as Angelica gave her the rundown. "Yes, they are our eyes and ears. Mona was able to plant a few cams at the residence this afternoon when she was steali— I mean, picking up our uniforms."

A cab stopped for them and they gladly climbed in, ignoring the inappropriate glances their driver kept shooting them. Sadie gave the driver Mycroft's home address while simultaneously googling how long it would take them to get there at this rate. They were tight for time. They had to get there just after Irene, not a second before. "Tell me more,"she spoke so softly, Angelica was almost confused as to who she was speaking to.

"Danny and Adam are working the party with us, also disguised. They're already in place. Sofia is also working mercilessly to find Louis' location just in case things go south," she said in direct reply to her boss.

Sadie was practically buried in her cell phone, "and is she close?"

"Very," Angelica paused for a beat. "So were you right? Do they not know about the woman showing up? It's a pretty big chunk of our plan—them being distracted by her presence."

"They don't know a thing about Irene showing up, tonight, they would've mentioned her. Sherlock doesn't even know about our standoff in the bank," She slid her phone into her pocket, angling herself to face Angelica more directly,"Have you heard anything from Adam or Danny? What can they tell us?"

It was her turn to pull out her phone, now, "Their phones are streaming, are you not getting anything?"

Sadie shook her head. "Wrong phone," she droned.

The eyebrows of her operative shot up momentarily, "O-oh. Okay. Well, John and the others are there. People are still showing up, though. Lestrade just did...now, they're waiting on Dr. Hooper."

Sadie was silent as her phone buzzed to let her know that they were five minutes away from their destination. "You let me know when she shows up," she said to Angelica, eerily calm and almost thoughtful.

"I will," she replied, eyes focused on the bright screen of her cellular device. Something dawned on her, "Where's your phone, director?"

"My boyfriend has it."

 

**

 

"Sherlock, for Christ sake. Fresh out of the grave and you have an electronic device glued to your palm!" Mycroft was partly serious, eyes boring into his brother who sat across from him in the large and spacious sitting area.

"Yes, keen eye, brother," Sherlock sassed half-heartedly as he sifted through possibly the most important data he'd ever laid his eyes upon.

Lestrade exchanged a sympathetic look with Mycroft before trying to reintroduce a light feeling to their gathering, "So, the food smells great. Any idea when it'll be ready."

Mycroft gave a small smile, "another twenty minutes, says kitchen staff, which works out since we're waiting for the arrival of Dr. Hooper."

"Yes, brother, brilliant idea. Have a dinner party with dinner that arrives later than the guests," Sherlock droned as he tapped away at the qwerty keypad in front of him, eyes alight with awe as his face looked somber.

Mrs. Hudson sighed, "Sherlock, put that dreaded device away."

He paused in his actions, almost exasperated, like a small child being scolded for no wrong-doing. "No one is telling _her_ to be present," he said, sounding rather cross as he pointed to the woman sitting beside his brother, on the love seat, tapping frantically.

Anthea halted, eyes narrowing at Sherlock. "I'm actually trying to reach a friend who I'm worried about and haven't spoken with since before the holidays. We usually talk all the time so there is a bit of urgency," she paused, "and what are you doing? Googling how to fake your own death— _Oh, wait._ "

"Friend?" Sherlock put the blackberry in his pant pocket, ignoring her snarky remark as he leaned forward on the uncomfortable cloth armchair he claimed as his own. "You see, that's the second time tonight that someone —who I, mistakenly, thought couldn't possibly have friends— indeed said that they have friends. What is the name of this friend?"

"Nora," Anthea said without hesitation, refusing to feel challenged or insulted by the likes of the younger Holmes, especially in front of guests.

The room was silent and Lestrade looked to Mary and John with wide eyes much like their own. Anthea went back to tapping on her infernal cell phone, Mycroft smirking at her side. Mrs. Hudson, on the other hand, noted that Sherlock looked as though he'd had a stroke. Sherlock wore this stupid expression and was about to share his findings with everyone else when Molly Hooper entered the room all soaked from what appeared to be an unexpected evening rainstorm.

"Dr. Hooper has arrived," Angelica stated plainly from behind a rack of plates in the state-of-the-art kitchen.

Danny and Adam were busy helping other caterers set the dinner table in the dining room but she was sure they'd heard her through their earpieces.

Sadie nodded from where she stood outside a broom closet before replying "all systems go, we're on code names now."

"What are our jobs exactly?" Danny inquired quietly as he tried to see the difference between a dinner fork and a salad fork.

Sadie opened the closet and rooted around inside until she found what she was looking for and closed the door just as quickly as it had been opened. "You're my muscle, in case something goes wrong. If Irene gets out of control, I'd rather have you guys close by than in the van with the techies."

"Sounds good to me, Alpha," Adam said while munching on bread from the kitchen, his hair dyed brown, a brown fuzzy mustache secured onto his face

"The dinner guests are loading in, director," Danny whispered to Sadie, turning his back to the people entering the room. He was virtually unrecognizable with his hair dyed tar-black but it was a habit to want to be unseen.

Everyone settled in and conversation started flowing along with the wine, well before the food was ready to hit the table top. When Sherlock's voice sprang up above the rest, even he was a little surprised by the mighty sound of it. "So, dear Anthea. Tell us more about this lovely friend of yours. It could be a possible case if she's gone MIA."

"Well, that's insensitive," Molly blurted before taking a swig of her wine.

Just as Anthea was about to tell off the youngest Holmes brother, the doors to the dining room creaked open and in walked one Irene Adler. She looked as breath-taking as ever, her off the shoulder black dress showing off that sexy neck and clavicle.

"She's looking for you," Mona squeaked, horrified as she watched Irene take a long hard look around the room on her tiny monitor.

Sam was next to speak up, "You've got to do something now, we've run out of time. You have to do whatever you were planning now. Sofia is about another six minutes from locating Omega and what use is that if he's dead in two?"

Sadie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as she listened to the edgy voices coming through her earpiece. All this time, she'd been standing in the far corner, slightly hidden in a line-up of other caterers, observing. Angelica was beside her, eyes wide with panic as she mouthed, _do something_.

"Irene," Sherlock said breathily, half in wonder and half in confusion.

Irene peered around Mycroft who had gotten up to greet her, eyes locking with the object of all her affections. Her eyes then darted all around the room again for that head full of chestnut brown hair and she couldn't find it. Her brow furrowed and Sherlock wondered just what in blazes she was doing there and who she could possibly be looking for. His eyes scanned the room of their own volition and came up short.

"Since when am I not invited to these gatherings?" Irene asked, a serpentine smile gracing her lips as she touched Mycroft's face.

A voice called out from the head of the table where Mycroft had abandoned his seat, "Since you became a manipulative bitch. Oh, but... That would imply you were _never_ invited, wouldn't it? Drats."

The voice came from one of the female caterers, Irene noted. A pretty little thing with dark hair and sun-kissed skin who looked almost like— "So you did come," Irene's brief confusion was a thing of the past, her mischievous smile back at full force.

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this for the world, Adler," She replied instantly, voice full of power as she pulled the wig from her head, releasing her thick cascading chestnut locks.

Everyone around the table gasped, Mycroft being the first to spring into action. "Out, all of you!" He exclaimed, dismissing the help. Angelica, Danny, and Adam stopped to look at Sadie for orders. She didn't remove her hard gaze from Irene as she dismissed them. "I'll be fine guys, you can go. Head to the Hummer." 

"Should we wait for you, director?" Danny asked. Sadie shook her head to indicate a negatory. The three were out of there and she removed her earpiece upon hearing Mona say that Sofia located Louis successfully and they were already en route for extraction.

"Nora?" Anthea asked, almost afraid to know the answer. Something about the way her voice cracked broke Sadie from whatever it was that had her trapped in hostility mode. Her eyes softened and found Anthea, "affirmative."

John piped up next, "I don't— I don't understand. What's going on?"

Now she just wanted to downright cry.

"I've been lying to all of you. I would have actually continued to lie to all of you until my job was done and I could go home but... Adler, here, held one of my operatives hostage and said if I didn't show up here that she'd kill him. He's my second in command and I very well couldn't have that."

John scoffed, "I don't believe you."

"Believe it," she snapped, holding her emotions at bay as she watched him process all that she was telling him.

Mycroft looked slightly intrigued, something she counted on, even with the look of anger in Irene's eyes and the pleading look in Anthea's. "Continue," said the eldest Holmes brother.

"My name is Sadie Simza Heron, I'm twenty-six. I'm from Brooklyn, New York and Moriarty murdered my older brother, Rene." She paused, knowing the beginning was probably the most incriminating place to start but she had to.

Taking a deep breath, she continued with, "I've been gifted since childhood, deduction at an early age had many advantages but none of them were exactly advantages in my household. Not with my father around. I was lost about what this was until I caught wind of a super genius named Sherlock Holmes, from across the pond.

"I followed your entire career," she said, eyes finding Sherlock,"and I was saving up money to come here to meet you and tell you how much you meant to me."

Everyone was still and silent and she moved over to the tall window on her right, taking in the many acres of land and the constant onslaught of rain before continuing her tale, "Keep in mind, Rene had left me to my own devices once I turned eighteen, he'd left for France with some of his shady friends who I now recognize as Malcolm and Sebastian. Moriarty's right-hand men, the only two I've yet to kill.

"Anyways, I was about a month away from meeting you when I heard about you falling to your death. Around the same time I received a call, from my brother's lawyer, telling me he'd died. I, naturally, wasted no time catching the first flight in to Heathrow. But not before I made a few calls first and exhausted almost all of my funds starting what I call The League Of Greater Intelligence."

"When did you know? When did you know, for certain, that I wasn't dead?"

His baritone sent chills up her spine and she turned around to face them, the people she'd grown to love. "It's stupid," she said.

"Tell me."

She laughed in spite of herself, "You moved my mug, once."

"He what?" Blurted Lestrade.

Molly's eyes grew wide, "is that slang for something?"

Sadie laughed harder, tears brimming from her eyes, "No, you silly goose. He literally moved my mug by two inches. It was about my third week staying at Baker Street and, I mean, for a good week after that I thought maybe it was Mrs. Hudson or John who'd moved my mug of coffee but that didn't add up. And what kind of burglar shows up and doesn't take anything but slips up and moves your mug?"

She nodded slowly, almost reminiscent, "I had my suspicions after that. I didn't know for certain until you damn near got me and my operatives killed at that warehouse in Central London."

"And what about Nora, then?" Irene asked with a smirk. Sadie's eyes found a defeated-looking Anthea.

"I posed as a friend to Anthea, a confidant of sorts, so that I could keep an eye on Mycroft and all his high-powered friends." Irene's smirk faded away.

"What about everything else in between?" John said, eyes not meeting hers, and she could hear the hurt in his voice. A lump formed in her throat and she fought to work past it.

"It wasn't a lie. The only thing I lied to you about was where I was from and I told you that my family was great," she shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

"But you did use me."

Sadie shook her head, walking closer to the table as she defended herself, "I protected you. I befriended you. I made it my personal mission to make sure all of you were safe before I went in and started shaking the wasps nest. Everything that I've done has been—"

John stood up abruptly and hit his hand hard against the table, startling her and everyone else in a ten mile radius,"Don't you dare say it's been for me because it hasn't! You're after vengeance and vengeance gets you killed! It's stupid and petty! And you lied to my face! You knew! You knew everything, you read my blog, I assume."

Sadie managed to keep her tears at bay because now wasn't the time. "I didn't have time for niceties, John. What would you have honestly said if I'd been honest? You would've told me to fuck off. I didn't have time to do things with my moral compass pointing due north."

Mary looked slightly confused, "Why wouldn't you have time?" She asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. Sadie was slightly grateful but mostly annoyed.

"It's so stressful being a person who _sees_ damn near everything," she turned to look at Sherlock, "Please tell me that at least you know why I haven't the time?"

"Because Moriarty is still alive," Sherlock said solemnly, hands joined together to form a steeple beneath his chin.

" _What_?" Cried everyone at the table, in unison.


End file.
